The untangling of my life from itself, and that of others, is painful and liberating.How is it that I got here?The journey a good one to this place.Yet the building of other emotions something unexpected…And the stroking of memories like the containment of artifacts in a wall, reminders of pain or hope.

UntanglingSedentary feelingsLost and hushed

From those whose voicesImplore changeEntreat movementEncourage a new dance…

____________________ Later _________________________

It’s that time of the evening…Colors vibrate under the slowly graying skyBreeze rubbing its fingers along my face and legs.Two men screaming through the rays of the sun clouds, then shifting into infants reaching for the moon.

I sit quiet. A few birds bellowing their last calls before a night’s slumber, and the gentle ebb of crickets and frogs croaking a greeting as the night sky nears. The days are getting longer. Morning breaks through small gaps of our curtains before our alarms remind us to get up. Later, the evening colors explode through our office window and we find ourselves amused by the hands on the clock, reminding us bedtime is sooner than expected.

I am watching the sun leave. My mind quieter than it has been in weeks. My thoughts, practically losing themselves before I can gather them. It feels nice. This is a place that I often miss, and have decided needs my attention more frequently.

What is stirring through the path that is my life?I sense all these callings, so many directions, burgeoning dreams and transformative emotions. It is hard to simply isolate one thread of this path, hard to embrace it long enough to collect some sense of what it is or means, what direction does it want to pull me to. I want so much for myself, and yet at this moment, nothing at all.

How did I get here?Am I living my passion?Is this what I would choose if I had options? Why do I think I don’t have options, what holds me to this fixed position? Am I seriously asking, “who am I?” again?